Scales: Bullets and Victory
by indecisivepenguin
Summary: X Drake never thought it would turn out quite like this when he left the marines and set sail as a pirate. His sniper wasn't helping matters. Companion to Dragon Feathers and Angel's Tears.
1. Chapter 1

(Roses are Red, Violets are Blue, I don't own One Piece, so you can't sue)

X-X-X-X-X

She was pouting.

She knew she was pouting and that she should probably stop, but she just couldn't find it in herself to care at that point. She had been looking forward to exploring the Sabondy Archipelago since the beginning of all this, but here she was, trapped aboard the Red Flag.

She groaned, letting her head fall onto her crossed arms while still holding tight to the blanket wrapped around her shoulders. She stood at the railing, looking wistfully at the island right in front of her, silently cursing the common cold.

She'd been out for three days, loopy as a loon with fever. Now, a week later, she was still ship bound, per her Captain's orders. She frowned. Even when the ship was being coated and she'd thought she'd caught a break, it wasn't to be. Her Captain had showed up, ushered her off the ship and straight to a hotel room, where he'd ordered her to stay until the ship was finished.

She'd actually been reduced to whining over that one, but he'd remained unmoved. When she'd grudgingly relented he'd nodded, patted her on the shoulder, and left.

It had been a very boring 10 days.

Now, with preparations for castoff nearly complete, she was becoming increasingly depressed as the days went by. It seemed more and more likely that the most she'd see of the famous chain of islands would be from the deck of the Red.

With a heavy sigh, she slumped over onto her arms, looking on as the sun began to fade and the lights on land began to come on.

X-X-X

X Drake had finally admitted (to himself, privately) that he was hiding. He'd tried to deny it for the longest time, but, that morning, when faced with such a glum expression and gloomy demeanor, he'd been forced to admit the truth.

If only to himself.

His markswoman had been ship bound for a good deal of the duration of their stay at the Archipelago, and the more time that went by, the more depressed she seemed to become. He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

He knew she'd wanted to explore, but her sudden, debilitating bout of sickness had really frightened him (something else he hadn't fully acknowledged, privately or otherwise). He'd been so worried about her being around so many people so soon after being sick that he'd been a little heavy handed when dealing with her, as of late.

And he'd been spending an awful lot of time avoiding her (and the storm clouds floating around her head), because of it.

He frowned, tapping his fingers against his desk while he thought.

He usually wasn't one to fret over a crewmate, but Nike was different. She was the reason he'd left the marines, after all.

He paused, considering.

So long as it was only for a few hours, and he was with her, it wouldn't hurt, would it? It'd certainly lighten her mood, that was for sure. Mind made up, he stood from his chair, grabbed his hat, and went in search of his markswoman.

He found her on deck, where she'd been for the past day and a half, wrapped half-heartedly in a blanket and watching the island. He berated himself silently when he saw her, because she just looked so...gloomy. Depressed. Forlorn.

Yes, taking her out was definitely a good idea.

"Nike." she looked up at the sound of her name, chestnut hair falling into her eyes for a moment before she brushed it away.

"Get changed, we're going ashore." he said.

She remained frozen for a few seconds, simply staring at him, before a huge grin spread across her face.

"Yes!" she was up and through the door to the cabins so fast that it left him slightly dizzy, blanket abandoned behind her. He sighed, reaching down to pick it up and folding it neatly, before placing it on a nearby barrel for Frost to retrieve later.

Yes, even if it was against his better judgement, if it made her happy, he'd make an exception.

But just this once.

X-X-X-X-X

/AN/

Nike is pronounced like the Greek Goddess of Victory. So it's knee-K, not nigh-kee, like the shoe brand.

For those that don't know, this is part of a trilogy. Angel's Tears, Dragon Feathers, and Scales: Bullets and Victory can be read separately or together. They're all parallels of the same story line, just following different characters.


	2. Chapter 2

X-X-X-X-X

He should have known something like this would happen.

He, Nike, and a handful of their crewmates were wandering the Archipelago, the sniper nearly bouncing as she strolled ahead of them, actually humming under her breath as she flitted between storefronts, mood much improved.

He'd been secretly relieved to see her in such high spirits. He'd never admit it out loud, but he liked seeing her happy. She got much more chatty on occasion, yes, but there were just as many times where she would just sit there and ooze sunshine and rainbows into the surrounding air. And, though that thought was slightly sickening (he was a pirate, after all), he could not find it in himself to deny her those feelings.

Then his train of thought was rather rudely interrupted.

A giant of a man, sporting wings and wielding a huge iron club, crashed into their path, trying his hardest to hit a much smaller man with long blonde hair and a full face mask. Twin blades spun in the smaller man's grasp, buzzing like an engine as he ducked and lunged, closing in on the sky island native.

Drake made an annoyed noise in the back of his throat, recognizing both "Mad Monk" Urouge and "Human Massacre Machine" Killer, before drawing his sword and axe and throwing himself between the two combatants.

The sound of weapons colliding was nearly deafening.

"If you want to do this, wait until you're in the 'New World'." He said tersely, shoving the two men in opposite directions. The giant grinned, settling his club onto his shoulder, but Killer moved as though to step forward.

A sharp click made him pause, and Drake turned to see Nike with both of her twin flintlocks drawn, one pointing at each of the men flanking her captain.

Both men wisely chose to withdraw. When they were out of sight, Drake motioned for Nike to put away her weapons, but her eyes slid past him, to something over his shoulder. He turned to see a man sitting on a crate some distance away, watching them over steepled fingers.

"That was pretty good." He said, smiling.

"But, Drake-ya, how many men...have you killed?" he asked, gray eyes flicking from Drake to settle on Nike, who had lowered her pistols, but hadn't re-holstered them. She was watching him warily.

"Trafalgar Law." Said Drake, moving to stand between his sniper and the Heart Pirates Captain.

It may have looked like he was shielding the woman, but he wasn't. Nike was no damsel in distress, and she'd show anyone who suggested otherwise the error of their ways. It was more to break her line of site, because he didn't want a confrontation breaking out between his sniper and such a notorious rookie captain.

Too late he realized that that was exactly what the other man was planning.

X-X-X

Law had judged the distance between them perfectly, as well as interpreted the way the woman beside X Drake held herself. He just knew that she would move to protect her Captain if he threatened him. And he was itching to do just that. Not because he was interested in "Red Flag", though.

Oh no, he wanted to see what the fiery little brunette at his side had hidden up her sleeve.

His gray eyes flicked over her form, taking her in, making her shift.

She wore dark pants, boots, and a blue button up shirt. Over that was a canvas coat in army green that fell to her knees, under which were hidden the various belts that held her weapons. She had a holster on each hip, where her twin flintlocks went. When she moved he caught a glimpse of...something in a shoulder holster, but he couldn't be sure what it was, or how many of them there were. Across her back was slung a rifle, and he'd bet his submarine that there was at least one hold out gun in her boots.

She was by far the most conservatively dressed and well armed pirate female he'd ever come across. The spark in her light brown eyes told him he wasn't dealing with an amateur, either.

So when the fingers holding his nodachi twitched, he wasn't surprised to find the barrel of a custom flintlock dueling pistol placed square between his eyes.

What did surprise him was the position of the other gun.

Oh, hello.

"Is that really necessary?" he asked calmly, looking up at her from under the brim of his hat. The girl's eyes narrowed down at him.

"First lesson when dealing with pirates," she said, checking the safety on the gun aimed at Trafalgar's crotch.

"Always aim below the belt."

"Enough, Nike." Suddenly, Drake was behind them, jaw clenched and eyes creased, but Law could pick up the worried line of the other man's brows. So he cared for the woman, Nike, did he?

Slowly, Nike withdrew, stepping back and re-holstering her weapons, but her eyes never left Law's.

Drake's hand on her shoulder finally made her turn to face him. He made sure he had eye contact before he spoke.

"Make sure the others get back to the ship. I'm going to see how badly things are turning out farther in." She looked as if she wanted to argue, but relented with a jerk of her head. He released her and she turned on her heel, barking orders to the other Drake pirates. With one last glance at her Captain, she strode off into the crowd.

When she was out of sight Drake turned back to Law, eyes flinty.

"Don't push me, brat." He growled.

Law actually laughed.

"She's certainly interesting." He said lightly.

"Get your own, Trafalgar." barked Drake, striding away.

X-X-X-X-X

/AN/

Nike's not the type to take shit from anyone, even scary motherfuckers like Trafalgar Law.

I gave Nike a set of British Dueling Pistols. Queen Anne's where more elegant (and certainly more expensive), but dueling pistols were highly reliable, water resistant, and accurate. External decoration was minimal, but the internal workings were often finished to a higher degree of craftsmanship than the exterior. Both are 16 inches long.

Also, to Rejar: Thanks so much for your review, I was afraid I was making Drake too OOC. I can't wait to reveal more of these two's relationship, because it's complicated and deep and funny as hell. And I fixed the typo.


	3. Chapter 3

X-X-X-X-X

Warning: This chapter contains a detailed description of an execution and is therefore rated M for Mature Audiences.

X-X-X-X-X

Nike was pissed.

Not only had her Captain come back to the ship beaten and _bleeding_, but now he wanted to go back to the Archipelago. Back to Kizaru and the Pacifistas and the rest of that insane little group of creepy people who were worth more than she'd ever care to think about. She'd thrown an absolute conniption, complete with shouting, copious amounts of curse words (all learned from the former Rear Admiral, oddly enough), and the occasional flying object.

Drake had taken it all, calm as can be, dodging paper weights and medical instruments while simultaneously being patched up by their medic, letting her cool herself down.

Finally, when the last annoyed huff had passed her lips and their doctor had scurried from the room, he'd calmly informed her that they were returning to the Archipelago only to watch the broadcast of Portgas D. Ace's execution, he would be sure to be more careful next time, and she should probably come with them to make sure they didn't draw any undue attention and/or get themselves killed.

She'd glared at him for a few minutes before nodding sharply and striding from the room, grumbling the entire way.

Drake sighed, testing the bandages on his side carefully before standing from his desk chair. He shed his hat, jacket and boots, letting them fall onto the floor to join his cape, which had come off almost as soon as he'd stepped through the door. He flopped rather unceremoniously onto his bed, rolling over to stare at the ceiling. The creak of the ship moving told him that Nike, though unhappy about his decision, was obeying orders. However, the angry shouting that he could hear faintly from above decks told him that she wasn't letting the crew off easily.

He chuckled.

Nike wasn't actually his first mate, but the real thing didn't mind, neither did he, and she acted like one anyway. He let out a breath, closing his eyes. Perhaps a light nap before they reached the island would do him good.

Slowly, he fell into the darkness of sleep. From the fog of his mind, memories surfaced.

X-X-X

- 5 Years Ago

He watched the body swing gently from the noose, disgust and pity and a fresh, deep seated rage bubbling up in his gut. The young man on trial had been a doctor, a civilian who had sworn to care for all who came to him for aid, who'd promised to never do harm.

And he'd kept that promise.

A month before, that same young doctor had taken in a wounded man, grievously injured and close to death. Despite his best efforts, the doctor was unable to save the man's life. Undeterred, he had made the other man comfortable, had dressed his fatal wounds, and had sat with him on his deathbed, keeping him company while he died. Afterwards, he had paid for the man to be given a proper burial in the village cemetery, his headstone resting in the shade of an old tree.

That man had been a pirate.

A month had passed in silence when, suddenly, the young doctor was arrested by Marines, tried for piracy, and sentenced to death. Simply because he had offered medical aide and comfort to a dying stranger.

Drake had heard of it through HQ and, curious about the circumstances, requested that they delay the execution until his arrival.

What he'd seen had shocked and disgusted him.

The young doctor had been beaten, his body bruised and bloody as he was led to the noose, face nearly unrecognizable from swelling and discoloration. He'd been silent the entire way, not uttering a word when asked for his final statement, head held high as the loop of rope was slipped around his neck.

And that was when Drake noticed her.

Standing in the crowd was a young woman: brown hair, light brown eyes, pale skin, thin. There was nothing remarkable about the way she was standing, hands at her sides, feet shoulder width apart.

It was the fact that she was silently crying that made him pause.

Her tears were a sharp contrast to the rest of the audience who, though they knew the doctor, perhaps shared the marine's views on piracy. She didn't scream out when the floor beneath the doctor's feet gave way or when his body twitched in its death throes, like most of the crowd. Even when the corpse hung, motionless, simply swaying to the creak of the rope, she didn't make a sound.

Long after the execution, when the Marines and bystanders had drifted away, she still stood before the platform, simply staring up at the body of the young doctor through tear fogged eyes.

He'd approached her cautiously, moving to stand beside her, watching the body sway: back and forth, back and forth, back and forth.

"Who was he to you?" he finally asked quietly, turning blue eyes on her.

Her gaze didn't shift from the corpse when she answered him.

"He was my brother."

Drake felt his heart constrict at the simple words.

Despite everything, the unjust arrest and execution, the beaten form of her loved one, she had not once objected, and it confused him.

"Why didn't you speak out?" he asked. She turned light brown eyes on him, the tear stains on her cheeks shining softly.

"He wasn't ashamed. My brother did what he thought was right and he refused to change his opinion or his views. This was the way he wanted to go." she replied.

Drake stood for several moments, frozen in shock, while those eyes remained on him, piercing into his very soul. He shivered. He felt as though she could see everything within his heart, as though his every thought was being laid bare to her unwavering gaze, and it frightened him. He tore his gaze away, looking back at the body, still swaying softly.

Eventually, the girl, for he still didn't know her name, turned away from the gallows. He turned his head to look at her, watching as she walked away without a word, back towards the town and it's flickering lights.

When she was finally out of sight, he let his eyes slide closed, his heart at war. Everything that he had been taught, the very foundation of his principals, had been shaken.

Inside of him the power that he had so recently gained reared its head, yellow eyes dancing. The great, scaly green beast opened a jaw full of razor sharp teeth, and smiled.

X-X-X

It was midnight when he knocked on the door.

When no one answered, he knocked again, more forcefully this time. Finally, on the third round, the door swung open to reveal the same girl from the execution sight, dressed for bed, hair sleep tousled, eyes blurry and squinting and _angry_.

They stood there for several moments, simply staring at each other.

Finally, he extended a hand to her, fist closed. She blinked, but extended her own hand, palm up. He dropped something small and heavy into her hand, and she gasped.

The pendant was silver, a dagger wrapped in a pair of entwined snakes within a circle, dangling from a simple black cord.

It was the same necklace their mother had given her brother when he'd become a Doctor, right before her death. The same one the Marine's had confiscated when he'd been arrested.

She blinked, before looking up at the man on her doorstep, suddenly realizing that he wasn't wearing his Marine uniform. Instead, he was dressed casually, in slacks and a button up, but with thick boots and a heavy jacket to ward off the North Blue chill. He looked scruffier without the cap covering his hair, somehow making the "X" on his chin stand out even more.

After several more moments of silence, he spoke.

"I'm leaving. Will you come with me?"

X-X-X

- Present Day

He woke from the dream, jerking up before being reminded, painfully, that he'd recently had a run in with Kizaru, of all people. Flopping back down, he stared up at the ceiling, contemplating.

He wondered what he would have done if she hadn't taken his hand that night.

His musing was interrupted when the door opened.

Most of his crew had the decency to knock, but, again, Nike was different.

She observed him, sprawled across his bed in just his pants and the bandages over his torso, expression unreadable. He blinked. She shook her head at him, before stepping into his cabin and closing the door, bending to pick up his cape and hat.

"We've arrived. The execution's not for a few more hours, but I figured you'd want to get good seats." she said, draping the cape over the back of his desk chair and hanging his hat on a peg on the wall. She crossed her arms, standing next to his bed and eyeing him.

"What?" he asked, sitting up and swinging his legs over the side of his bed. She frowned, but shook her head.

"You'll do whatever you want anyway, so I'll just tag along and make sure you don't die." she said, matter-of-factly.

He snorted, tugging on his jacket.

"Like you're not just as stubborn as I am." he said. She sniffed disdainfully.

"Damn straight. Now, let's go."

X-X-X-X-X

/AN/

I love you, backstory. If you're wondering, I imagine that Nike is about 25-26 right before the time skip, so she was around 21 when they first met. Cannon places Drake at 31 during the Sabondy arc, so he would have been about 26 when they first met.

These two have an interesting dynamic to them that isn't present in my other fics. Drake has to be a hardass all the time: around his crew, out in public, when dealing with Kizaru and Pacafistas, etc. But with Nike, he can relax and be _vulnerable_, which he can't do with anyone else. And she's tough enough to support him when he is weak, but trusts him to support her if she needs the same.

To Rejar: I thought you might like that line. I was trying to think about a way for Nike to show she was a badass without actually shooting someone, and this just came to me. It was too perfect to pass up. Take that, Law. Anyway, I have chapter 4 flushed out and 5 in the works, so they should be coming in the next few days. I'm on a roll with these two.


	4. Chapter 4

X-X-X-X-X

She didn't know what she had been expecting, really. A fight between Marines and Pirates on this scale was sure to be bloody, vicious chaos. It kind of annoyed her how Sengoku was throwing Roger's name around like a curse-word, using it to torment Portgas, but she understood the man's instinctual need to eliminate something he saw as a blight to society.

But destroying a life like this was no excuse.

Nike stood beside her Captain at the Archipelago, watching with one eye and listening with half an ear. She was always alert, always on the look-out for threats, both to herself and to her captain and crew. Call her paranoid, but ever since her Captain's bounty had cleared 200,000,000 something had changed. The hunters coming after them seemed to have graduated to a new level of sadistic cruelty and vicious strength. As such, she wasn't taking any chances.

She chuckled a bit when Whitebeard breached the bay using coated ships, just because of the look on Sengoku's face, and rolled her eyes at Aokiji's actions, but generally kept her senses on the surrounding area.

It appeared that, besides Straw Hat Luffy and his first mate, the 8 other Supernovas where in attendance. She'd spotted Eustass Kid walking up the hill and Scratchmen Apoo entering the plaza. She'd also sensed Law wandering at the outskirts of the mass of spectators. Drake just sat there staring at the screens, giving no indication he knew there were others as strong as himself lurking nearby. True, her Captain dwarfed her in terms of physicality and strength, both in and outside his Zoan form, but his kenbunshoku haki needed some serious work. He relied on the heightened senses provided by his fruit powers far too much, in her opinion.

And then a Marine warship fell out of the sky.

That certainly got her attention.

She blinked, focusing fully on the screens to see the wreckage of the ship begin to break apart, figures scrambling over it. Something blue dove over the side into the water, staying submerged for several long moments before hauling a couple of unmoving lumps onto the ice. They soon resolved into discernible figures and Nike began listing them, though her Captain already knew who most of them were.

"Jimbe, Shichibukai, 44, whale shark fishman. Sir Crocodile, former Shichibukai, also 44, Suna-Suna fruit user. Buggy the Clown, Bara-Bara fruit user. Emporio Ivankov, revolutionary, Horu-Horu fruit user. His presence means that Inazuma is here too. And that's Monkey D. Luffy, 17, bounty: 300 million, Gomu-Gomu fruit user."

Drake grunted in acknowledgement but didn't move, eyes still fixed on the screens. For once, Nike followed his example, attention diverted from looking for threats to watching the spectacle.

And what a spectacle it was.

X-X-X

Nike was oddly silent on the trip to Marine Ford.

Drake, despite himself, kept glancing at her out of the corner of his eye. She stood at the railing, staring, unseeing, ahead of the Red. Every now and again one of her hands would twitch, as though she were itching to draw her pistols.

The Marine's war with Whitebeard had taken a sudden, unexpected turn towards the personal with the admittance that Monkey D. Luffy was Ace's younger brother.

He couldn't even begin to try and understand what she was feeling. To see another person lose a brother to the Marines in such a fashion just might push his sniper too far, and so he sought her out once they were underway.

He didn't speak as he approached or when he stood beside her at the railing. Carefully he placed a hand on her shoulder, giving the tense muscles a gentle squeeze. At the contact her eyes slid closed and she heaved several long, deep breaths, letting them out noisily.

Finally, she turned to him, brown eyes oddly bright.

She didn't say anything, only nodded her thanks. He inclined his head, before letting his hand drop from her shoulder.

It was a long way to Marine Ford.

X-X-X

They watched from a distance as Whitebeard and his men retreated with the badly wounded Ace and Luffy in tow. From the deck of the Red Flag, Drake turned to Nike. She watched the little yellow submarine duck out of sight before turning her eyes to him.

"They should be fine. Law's a creep, but he's a good doctor." he said. She nodded, a strained but relieved smile spreading across her face.

"I know." she said.

He nodded once, sharply, before turning to the deck, barking orders as he went. They had finally reached the point where they would enter the New World, there was no time to waste.

"Let's go!" he said.

"Yes, Sir!" the collective yell came up from the crew, Nike included.

X-X-X-X-X

/AN/

It was insanely hard to finish this. I don't know why, but it took me four tries to get it right, and even now it's still got wonky bits in it. Rar.

Also, I couldn't find it in myself to kill off Whitebeard. Or Ace. So, yeah, divergence from cannon begins here. The same will be mirrored in Angel's Tears and Dragon Feathers (when I get around to writing the chapters that this arc actually covers).

Anyways, to Rejar: Sorry there were no one-liners in this chapter. Some giggling at Drake and Sengoku's expense, but nothing as laugh-worthy as the Law episode, I'm afraid. I'm glad you liked the backstory. I figured that the event that made Drake change "sides" would have to be pretty significant, and what better than the willful death of an innocent? I tried to touch on Nike's continued struggle with her brother's death, and the mirror that Ace and Luffy created seemed like a good one to use.

Hope you enjoyed!


	5. Chapter 5

X-X-X-X-X

Warning: This chapter contains bad language, a fight scene, and the deaths of enemies.

X-X-X-X-X

It had to be a fucking Winter Island.

Nike kept the few choice words she had about this particular island to herself, even if the rest of the crew didn't, but that didn't stop the waves of anger rolling off of her from collecting around her Captain like an enraged little thundercloud. Drake knew very well what she thought about cold, and snow, but he had ignored it in favor of stopping to top off their supplies.

Fishman island had been uneventful, if interesting. They'd passed through without incident, stopping only long enough for the triple log pose to set.

Drake sighed, feeling his sniper's angry gaze on the back of his head. It wasn't his fault that the first island they'd come to had been covered in snow. He glanced back at Nike, taking her in. Despite being born in North Blue, she had never fully acclimated to the climate, always wearing heavier clothes to ward off the chill. While Drake was content to wander around in his usual getup, she was wearing a heavy jacket, thick boots, and a knit hat pulled low over her ears, leaving only her eyes visible over her scarf. It would have been comical if she hadn't been sending death glares his way.

Nike hated the cold for the way it got into her bones and made it impossible for her to wield her weapons properly. Having to wear gloves to ward off frostbite made firing a gun rather difficult, after all.

That didn't stop her from shouting a warning when the icicles started raining from the sky.

When the smoke cleared Nike was crouched beside Drake, eyes fixed ahead, both pistols drawn. How she had gotten to his side so fast he didn't pause to think about, instead facing down the huge metal faced man now standing before them, flanked by a dozen smaller men.

"This is Kaido-sama's favorite island." said the huge stranger, who Nike was now close enough to identify as "Iron Boy" Scotch. "And I'm in charge of guarding it."

Drake blinked, and by the shift in his stance Nike could tell he was planning something. The very mention of Kaido's name gave her a good inclination as to what.

"And?" he asked. "What do you want from us?"

"Nothing," said Scotch. "I'm just warning you. You better not piss him off, rookie."

Nike's eyes twitched at that last comment, fingers tightening around her pistols while she shifted, eyes sliding from Scotch to sweep over the men behind him. They were all small fry pirates working for Kaido, riff-raff he must have picked up along the way. Certainly none of them were strong enough to pose a threat to her Captain.

Drake was speaking again.

"You mean, if I kill you or something, Kaido won't forgive me?" he asked, and the tone of his voice made the hackles on the back of Nike's neck stand on end.

Scotch grunted an affirmative.

"That's right." He said. "Now, why don't you just..." but he was cut off by Drake.

"That makes things much simpler." he said. Lightly tanned, smooth skin gave way to rough green, blue eyes turning yellow and feral as the body expanded, suddenly towering over everyone, razor sharp teeth bared in a bastardization of a smile.

She may have been expecting it, but even if she hadn't she wouldn't have reacted as strongly as the rest of their crew. Some jumped, others jerking in surprise. Being around him had obviously not desensitized his men to Drake's change. As it stood, Nike was the only one left standing beside him, shoulder pressed lightly against the outside of his left leg.

Some would consider it a dangerous place to be, being so close, but in her opinion it was better for her Captain to know where she was. It lessened the possibility of him accidentally stepping on her.

"Oh?" Scotch mused, eyes wide as he stared. "An ancient Zoan type? How rare." he seemed oddly unfazed, which set off warning bells in Nike's head. It wasn't until he drew the fearsome looking triple barreled gun from his sleeve that she understood why.

Drake threw back his head and roared in challenge, lunging forward.

Nike snapped into action, lifting her arms and pulling twin triggers without conscious thought, felling the two men on either side of Scotch in the time it took him to fully aim at her Captain. It took her two-seconds to switch the used pistols for the ones in her shoulder holsters, getting off another clean headshot as Drake clamped his jaw down on Scotch's arm, crunching through metal and flesh with disturbing ease.

By the time the rest of their crew charged in, swords drawn and guns blazing, the blood was pounding in Nike's ears, drowning out the sounds of battle. She had eyes only for the great reptile a few yards away, shaking his head savagely, Scotch's arm still clamped between razor sharp teeth as the man wailed in protest.

If she hadn't been paying such close attention, she would have missed him.

A man was sneaking up behind them, around Scotch's other side towards Drake's unprotected right.

She didn't remember pulling her rifle, but it was suddenly in her hands and she was staring down the sights, eyes unblinking as she let out her breath, taking it in again and holding it. The loss of resistance under her finger told her the gun had fired, followed by the plume of blood that erupted from the man's head as his skull was blown out, showering bits of bone fragment and brain matter across the snow.

And then it was over, and they were standing amidst corpses. Scotch was moaning softly, face down in the snow, but Drake seemed disinterested, having moved to stand over Nike. Oddly enough, she wasn't cold anymore.

He stared down at her with yellow eyes and she stared right back, adrenaline still rushing through her. He shrank, suddenly standing before her as a human, eyes once more the blue she was so familiar with. She blinked, then flexed her hands, realizing she had a white-knuckled death grip on her rifle. She slung it over her shoulder and cocked an eyebrow at her Captain.

"Now what?" she asked. He held her gaze for a moment before signaling for the rest of the crew to head back to The Red. When they were out of sigh he turned around, kicking Scotch in the side almost absently, making the other man groan in protest.

"This one will return to Kaido with our message." he said.

"And in the meantime?"

Drake grimaced.

"An...old friend contacted me, says he needs to speak with me. In person." Her other eyebrow rose to join its twin.

"An old friend?" her voice was dangerously low, eyes narrowing. He sighed, reaching up and scratching the back of his neck absently.

"Garp wants to meet up two islands from here, in Miania." he said.

Nike frowned, thinking. True, Garp the Hero had, for all intents and purposes, left the Marines. It'd been a big to-do in the papers in the aftermath of the Battle of Marine Ford. At the same time, she was highly uncomfortable letting her Captain meet with a man who had been so faithful to the Marines as to go against his own family.

She finally raised her eyes to Drake, who was studying her. She scowled at him.

"You'd made up your mind about going before you told me." she stated. He nodded and she sighed.

"You know how I feel about it." she said, feeling weary. He nodded again, before turning his body slightly so he was facing her fully.

"I wanted you to come with me." he said. She blinked, having not expected it. Asking her to accompany him wasn't unusual. It was the fact that it was _Garp_ that made it odd. After a moments consideration, she spoke again.

"Where on Miania?" she asked.

"Some fancy restaurant on the North Side." he replied, shrugging. She frowned, wracking her brain for a moment, before looking down at herself.

"I don't own anything fancier than this." she pointed out. Drake chuckled, before motioning for her to follow him. He started walking in the direction their crew-mates had gone and she fell into step beside him.

"We'll find something at the island. The restaurant may be upscale, but Garp's not picky."

She sighed, feeling the last of the tension from the battle leave her frame.

"Alright then," she said. "Something with pockets, or I'll have to get a garter." she mused, mostly to herself. Drake stopped dead, nearly tripping over his own feet before he turned startled blue eyes to her. She blinked at him, having stopped when he did, pulled from her thought.

"What, you expected me to go in unarmed?" she asked him, before continuing on ahead, leaving him staring after her in surprise.

He shook his head, a smile spreading across his face.

She really was something.

X-X-X-X-X

/AN/

And Nike finally gets to shoot something.


	6. Chapter 6

X-X-X-X-X

She took one look at him and rolled her eyes.

"You look like you're going to a funeral." she said. Drake glanced at her through the mirror, fiddling with his cuffs. He'd picked out a black suit, a white shirt and a navy blue tie. He shrugged.

"It fits." he pointed out. Nike frowned at him before turning on her heel and disappearing into the racks. Drake stopped adjusting his tie and turned to look in the direction she'd gone, stuffing his hands into his pockets and waiting patiently. She returned a few minutes later with something draped over her arm.

"Try this on." she said, handing it to him. He didn't mind the suit, but he immediately balked at the shirt color.

"No." He said.

"Try it on." she repeated, eyes narrowing. He sighed, deciding to humor her. He vanished back into the dressing room to do as she asked.

They'd trekked across Miania from its West Port to the North Face, an upscale district sporting world famous restaurants, hotels, and a casino. The store they'd stopped in to get a change of clothes was expensive, like the rest of the city, but off the main thoroughfare, which meant that they were less likely to be recognized.

When Drake reemerged, dressed in the dove gray three piece suit Nike had picked out, she nodded appreciatively. The shirt that he'd so objected to was a light, neutral pink, matching the subtle pin-stripping in the fabric of the jacket and slacks. The solid gray vest and tie helped balance the whole ensemble, and he found that he actually liked the effect. The colors didn't clash with his hair, which he'd slicked back in the absence of his hat, like he'd thought they would.

Nike produced a pink pocket square from out of nowhere, which she tucked neatly into his breast pocket, patting it flat.

She took a step back and nodded in approval.

"Much better." she said.

"Excuse me, have you been helped?" They both turned to the female clerk standing at the entrance to the dressing area, several folded garments over one arm. Nike opened her mouth to speak but Drake beat her to it.

"As a matter of fact, we haven't, and the lady still needs a dress."

The woman, whose name tag read Anne, took one look at Nike and smiled brightly.

"Oh, I have just the thing." she said, setting aside the clothes she was holding before disappearing back into the racks. Nike glanced at Drake, who shrugged. She sighed, resigned to being dressed like a life-sized doll. Anne appeared a moment later, shoving something slinky into Nike's arms.

"Do you have shoes, dear?" she asked as the other woman stepped into a vacant dressing room and closed the curtains. Drake spoke for her.

"She'll need the works."

Nike could hear Anne's cooing through the curtain, but passed it off in favor of shedding her clothes and fighting her way into the dress she'd been handed.

A pair of heels were thrust through the curtain, which she accepted as well as a purse and earrings. She declined the necklace, fingering the silver pendant around her throat as she strapped on the shoes.

With a sigh, she pulled back the curtain.

Drake had been absently pulling the tags off his new suit, facing the front of the store. He saw Anne clap her hands in excitement and turned.

Nike had always been pretty in an unconventional sense. She wasn't overtly beautiful, but she wasn't unattractive. She was long limbed, thin, and in excellent shape, with muscle from years of hard work that was defined without being bulky. Her usual clothes often hid most of her body, but she always moved with a predator's grace.

But he'd never seen her look like this.

The grecian styled gown fell from her shoulders to drape in an elegant v shape, showing just a hint of cleavage. A gold belt held the heather gray fabric cinched at the waist, and from there it fell in pleated waves down to the floor. The dress seemed ideal to show off her delicate neck and fine boned features, as well as the tone of her arms. She'd unbound her hair from its customary braid and Anne stepped forward holding an ornate gold comb, which she ran through Nike's hair a few times before pulling the whole lot up in an elaborate twist, leaving a few strands to fall and frame her face.

Nike blinked, turning to observe herself in the mirror, before turning to Drake.

In heels, she wasn't quite so short next to him, eye level with his chin instead of his chest. He swept her form with his eyes before forcing himself to focus on her face.

"Perfect." he said.

Something in Nike's face relaxed, as though she'd been waiting for his approval, before she turned with a smile to Anne.

As they made their way to the counter Drake trailed behind, wondering why his heart was beating oddly fast.

X-X-X

Garp observed the couple over the rim of his glass.

If he hadn't recognized Drake immediately they could have passed for just another pair of wealthy aristocrats in a city full to bursting with the rich and powerful. Both seemed at ease, strolling arm in arm along the thoroughfare towards the restaurant where they'd agreed to meet. But everything wasn't as it seemed. Drake had abandoned his usual outfit, most notably the hat and mask, but now the prominent "x" on his chin was only slightly more attention worthy than his sharp blue eyes. Anyone who made eye contact quickly found something else to look at. He also carried himself with a sense of carefully controlled power, which made people in the crowd give him an unconsciously wide berth.

Garp was unfamiliar with the woman on his arm, but he had heard enough stories to hazard a guess as to who she was. He'd been present when the argument over the bounty for the pirate Captain's sniper came up. Poor Sengoku had nearly burst something during that debate.

The woman, Nike, had been given a bounty of 55,000,000 for her debut, but when Drake had destroyed an entire city going after a group of bounty hunters that had attacked her it had been decided that it would be lowered to 20,000,000. The significant money deduction had not gone unnoticed by the public, but had quickly been swept under the rug by other news. The vicious mauling of the group who'd tried to take her had also ensured that only the stupid tried again.

From the window of the restaurant's bar he couldn't see much in the form of facial expression, but he noted that her shoulders were tense, head tilting this way and that as she walked.

He turned to the maitre'd, informing him that his party would soon be arriving, and was shown to a table set for three, tucked away in a shadowy corner to provide some privacy. He only had a few minutes to wait before the two pirates joined him.

Up close, he was immediately captivated by the woman's light brown eyes. They had flicked around the restaurant, lingering on doors and windows, before settling on him with a surprising amount of weight. Garp shook himself mentally before standing, grinning as he extended a hand to the former Rear Admiral.

"Drake, how have you been?" he asked enthusiastically. Drake shrugged nonchalantly, shaking Garp's hand while Nike's remained tucked into the crook of his other arm. It wasn't until the two men let go that she stepped away from him, letting her hand drop.

"I'm well, what about you?" It was something of a loaded question, as the world had been privy to Garp's family troubles only a week before. But the other man waved a hand dismissively.

"Fine, fine. Looking forward to beating some sense into my grandsons, but what else is new?" He said, before turning to Nike. Something like sadness flickered across his face before it was obscured once more by his smile. He extended his hand to take hers, bending over it in an old fashioned gesture.

"You must be Nike. I've heard quite some stories about you at headquarters, young miss." He said.

"Highly exaggerated, I assure you." She replied. Drake had asked that she be on her best behavior, so she would be civil, if alert. Garp chuckled, before holding her seat out for her. She hesitated for only a moment before accepting, folding her hands in her lap while the two men seated themselves.

Garp's expression changed from open to serious in a heartbeat.

"There are many who say you're the reason for Drake's defection." He said. Drake's jaw tightened and he made to speak out in Nike's defense, but she beat him to it.

"Are you looking for someone to blame, Garp-san?" she asked quietly. The two stared each other down for several long moments, black eyes to light brown, before Garp's smile returned and he chuckled.

"Not at all, Miss Nike, but I can see why he keeps you around," he said. She made a slight humph noise in the back of her throat.

The waiter chose that moment to appear. Garp ordered a bottle of wine, to which Drake agreed, but Nike politely declined. The former Admiral raised an eyebrow.

"I won't drink with you here." She explained. Garp snorted.

"You don't trust me." He stated. Nike's face remained neutral, but her tone was sharp.

"That's right."

Garp chuckled.

"Good girl," he said, patting the hand she had resting on the table. She stared him down and he rolled his eyes. Drake chose that moment to speak up.

"What did you want to talk about, Garp?" he asked. The former Admiral turned black eyes on the pirate captain before letting out a heavy sigh.

"Impel Down." He said.

"What about it?"

"I'm sure you're aware of the breakout during the battle of Marine Ford?" Drake and Nike both nodded. Garp sighed again.

"There was another incident around the same time, involving Teach." Drake lifted his lip in a silent snarl at the man's name, feeling his teeth sharpen, but Nike's hand on his arm made him pause and he schooled his features once more.

"What kind of incident?" she asked. Garp paused, a deep frown etching itself across his face, making him appear suddenly very, very old.

"Teach told the prisoners on level 6 to fight amongst themselves, and the winner from each cage would be set free. He took 4 with him into the New World, but there are many who escaped in the chaos and have not been found."

Nike's grip on Drake's arm tightened, knuckles nearly white as she stared across the table at Garp. The two men sitting with her had lived with the reality of Impel Down, but she had heard enough stories in her time to feel the stirrings of fear in her gut. Even a single prisoner from level 6 could be lethally dangerous if unleashed on the civilian population, let alone an untold amount, but that wasn't what made her blood run suddenly cold.

"Why haven't we heard anything about this?" She whispered. Garp's expression took on a hint of anger.

"The World Government has refused to issue a statement or wanted posters for the escaped prisoners because they believe that such a breakout would cause the world to lose trust in them." He said with a grimace.

"Idiots." Growled Drake. It was Nike's turn to bare her teeth in a snarl.

"Do those fools really believe that is for the best? That they can sweep something like this under the rug? They are releasing wolves into a fold of sheep!" she exclaimed, anger coursing in her veins. Drake took her hand, giving it a squeeze and she closed her eyes, taking several deep breaths to calm her temper. When she opened her eyes they were nearly gold with rage, but her voice was calm when she spoke.

"Why tell us this?" she asked. Garp regarded the two for a moment before letting out a heavy breath.

"Because someone needs to know." He turned black eyes to Drake. "You may have left the Marine's, but I know your code of honor has not changed."

The two pirates lapsed into silence, Nike lacing her fingers with those of her Captain while she fell into her thoughts. What could they possibly do? Spread word of the breakout? Who would believe them? Many pirates would see it as an advantage, uncaring for the loss of a few insignificant civilians. She frowned in concentration.

Drake watched Nike's eyes glaze over as she retreated into her own thoughts. He knew that, at that moment, her mind was working a million miles a minute, forming and discarding countless plans and strategies in a matter of eye-blinks.

The waiter reappeared, pouring drinks for the two men and leaving water for Nike, before providing menus and vanishing again. They didn't speak again until he'd returned, they'd ordered, and he'd left again.

"How goes your travels? I hear you had a run in with a few of the other Supernovas at the Archipelago." said Garp. Nike pulled a face and Drake chuckled, answering Garp's unspoken question.

"Broke up a fight between Urouge and Killer, but then Trafalgar stuck his nose into things and Nike took offense." he explained. One of Garp's eyebrows rose.

"You did, did you?" he asked her. She snorted.

"No one threatens my Captain and gets away with it." She said testily. Garp cast Drake a knowing look while Nike was distracted with unfolding her napkin, causing the other man to tense, before chuckling.

"I can see why."

X-X-X-X-X

/AN/

Finals were last week, so to recuperate I spent the three day weekend sleeping and writing.

You're welcome.

Nike's a Taurus, which makes her highly loyal and incredibly stubborn.

I really didn't want to spend too much time describing their clothes, because I sometimes find that highly irritating in a story, but I felt that the "costumes" that the pirates (especially the Captains) wear every day are such an integral part of their character that any break from that would be significant.

Next chapter continues the "Dinner" arc, so be prepared for more Garp antics.


	7. Chapter 7

X-X-X-X-X

Drake was trying to keep his temper in check. He was also stubbornly ignoring the fact that he was failing miserably.

Dinner had gone by without incident, conversation light and non-work related. Nike had been coldly civil, fielding questions and giving noncommittal answers like a veteran politician. Instead of infuriating Garp, however, the large man just seemed to find it all incredibly funny.

They had just finished with desert when a man came out to uncover the grand piano in the center of the restaurant, followed by a few people carrying various instruments. They finished setting up and a woman came out to stand in front of a microphone. She started to croon along to the light jazz music as the house lights dimmed. A space had been cleared for dancing and several couples were already swaying around the floor when Garp suddenly stood.

"May I have this dance, milady?" He asked, extending his hand to Nike. For a moment Drake thought she would refuse, but, surprisingly, she accepted, taking the offered hand and allowing herself to be led to the dance floor.

And that was how Drake found himself alone at their table, watching as his sniper swayed to the beat with his former colleague, feeling his nails bite into his palms.

Nike tried to ignore her Captain's heavy stare, even as Garp led her through the familiar dance steps as if he'd been doing it all his life. She'd been taught as a child, but she never would have pegged the former Admiral for a dancer. He was grinning unabashedly and she frowned up at him.

"What?" She asked, and despite her best efforts her tone came out far icier than she'd intended. Garp chuckled.

"I wanted to have a word with you, actually. Privately." It was her turn to snort.

"If you really believe that he can't hear us, you're delusional." She said, referring to her Captain's super-human senses. Garp raised an eyebrow.

"Over cautious, are we?" He asked. She rolled her eyes.

"I know my Captain," she said. Garp chuckled.

"Yes, I can see that." She bristled.

"What's that supposed to mean?" She asked. Garp smiled gently as he spun her, putting his back to Drake.

"I've never, in all the years I've known him, seen Drake act like he does with you," he said. She opened her mouth to speak but was interrupted.

"Do you mind if I cut in?" Garp looked over to meet steely blue eyes. He chuckled as he stepped back and bowed over Nike's hand.

"It has been a pleasure, milady." He said, before letting Drake take his place. Nike watched him head back to their table with a raised eyebrow, before turning to focus on her Captain as she felt his arm slide around her waist. She fell into step with him much easier than she had with the former Admiral, feeling herself relax slightly in his hold.

They danced for three songs before Drake spoke.

"What had him laughing so hard?" He asked. Nike rolled her eyes.

"Some nonsense about you acting differently from how he remembered," she said. She felt Drake's hold tighten briefly before relaxing.

"You sound skeptical," he said nonchalantly. She wasn't fooled.

"People change. It's inevitable," she said, watching him closely. He sighed.

"I suppose. But I can't say as I've seen you change much," he mused. She slowed significantly when a new song started, forcing him to do the same. She smiled.

"Oh, I've changed. But you rarely notice it in the people you're close to every day. Besides, I haven't known you as long as Garp-san, so the differences in my image of you aren't as significant," she said. Drake stared down at her for several moments before laughing softly.

"Why is it you can always put such difficult situations into words so easily?" He asked. She snorted.

"I've had plenty of practice explaining myself to a difficult crew," she said. Drake chuckled.

"But not a difficult Captain?" He teased. She laughed.

"You most of all," she said.

They continued to dance until the crowd started to thin. When they returned to their table it was to find Garp surrounded by several more empty wine bottles, though the big man seemed none the worse for wear. Nike excused herself to the restroom as Drake sat down. Garp grinned at him across the table and received a wary stare in return.

"You've got quite a woman there, Diez." He said. Drake huffed.

"You're not the first person to tell me that," he said. Garp shrugged, swirling his wine glass between thumb and forefinger.

"It's true. She's really incredible. Loyal, smart, practical, everything you're not." Drake glared at him and he chuckled.

"What are you trying to get at, Garp?" He asked. He was suddenly on the receiving end of a flat black stare.

"I've never seen you act like this with a woman, and I've known you for a long time." He pointed out. Drake snorted.

"Nike said as much. Do you have an actual point to make?" He growled. Garp's expression was suddenly very serious.

"Don't try and fool me, boy, it won't work." Drake lifted his lip at the former Admiral. Garp observed him for a few moments before letting out a sigh, leaning back in his chair.

"You're in love with her." He said. It wasn't a question, but a calmly stated fact. Drake simply stared at him, feeling his jaw go slack, but before he could reply Garp was standing from the table and turning to smile at Nike, who was coming towards them.

"I've had a lovely evening, my dear, but I'm afraid I have an early start tomorrow," he said, kissing the back of her hand. One of her eyebrows lifted and his grin widened.

"Good night, Miss Nike, Drake." He winked at the other man over his shoulder and strode away. Nike cast a questioning glance at her Captain, but he was watching the former Admiral walk away with careful concentration.

She sighed.

Honestly, men were so difficult sometimes.

X-X-X

Because of the distance between the North Face and the West Port they'd made plans to stay the night. However, by the time they actually arrived at their hotel it was late and Nike was cranky. She was tired, irritable, and sore (she was silently cursing whoever had invented high heels). Not only that, but her Captain had been oddly quite since they'd left the restaurant and she didn't know why.

So it was with a heavy sigh that she sat down on the room's bed and started fighting with the straps of her shoes. When they refused to yield she let out a growl of frustration and flopped backwards onto the covers, covering her face with her arms.

A gentle hand on her ankle made her tense before she recognized Drake's presence. Her Captain unlatched the clasp on one shoe and was working on the second when she sat up.

"What's wrong?" she asked. He kept his eyes focused on her feet, letting the second heel fall beside its twin, but didn't let go of her ankle. A hand on his cheek made him look up at her. Her brows were drawn together in concern and he felt himself relax as her thumb brushed against his skin.

"Nothing," he said.

"Liar," she tapped her palm against his cheek. It wasn't a hard slap, but it got his attention.

He frowned at her, running a finger across the arch of her foot in retaliation. She yelped and tried to jerk away but he kept a firm grip on her ankle. She glared at him, but her expression turned bemused when she noticed that he was watching her thoughtfully.

"Why did you follow me out to sea?" He asked finally, shifting his gaze to his hands. He was surprised to feel her other hand move to cup his other cheek, and lifted his eyes just in time for her to press a gentle kiss to his forehead.

"Idiot. You're a perceptive person. Why ask questions you already know the answer to?" she asked, smiling down at him. He blinked at her and then sighed, letting a relieved smile spread across his own face.

"I suppose so," he said. She grinned and he moved aside so she could stand, moving across the room to their bags, which they'd had delivered to the hotel before going to meet Garp.

"I'm going to change. I don't know about you, but I'm exhausted." She said, waving at him over her shoulder. He nodded and watched her disappear into the bathroom. He couldn't help his own grin as he dug through his bag, exchanging the suit for something comfortable enough to sleep in.

He was in the process of folding the suit jacket when he felt something land on his shoulder. Picking up the object curiously he brought it around to look at it. And was stunned speechless by the scrap of lace caught between his fingers. He turned wide blue eyes to the bathroom door, through which Nike was grinning cheekily at him.

"For you, Captain." She giggled before shutting the door again. Drake stared at the door for a full minute before turning his attention back to the garter in his hand, complete with an attached gun holster, trying to will his brain not to malfunction.

Oh, hell.

X-X-X-X-X

/AN/

Yes, they just confessed to each other. I'm trying to keep away from the dramatic declarations of undying love because they just aren't realistic, at least in this series. I mean, can you even imagine someone like Law saying "I love you". To anyone? I had an awful lot of feels when writing this chapter. Like, ALL OF THEM CAME OUT AT ONCE! It was just...I don't even know...but I have grown to absolutely adore these two. They're so cute.

Anyway, some of the songs I was listening to while writing the dance scenes:  
The Only Exception - Paramore  
In This Life - Delta Goodrem.

I added the little bit at the end with the garter because it was just begging to be written. Poor Drake.


	8. Chapter 8

X-X-X-X-X

Drake came awake with a start, casting around the dimly lit room for a potential threat before remembering where he was. With a sigh he flopped back onto the bed, before turning his head to look at the woman still asleep beside him. Nike was curled up on her side, facing him, fingers curling and uncurling unconsciously.

He frowned.

It wasn't the first time they'd ended up in bed together, though they'd never done anything other than sleep. Usually it followed a heavy night of drinking on his part or had been back when they were still in North Blue and it was unbearably cold. But, now, everything seemed different. The past 24 hours had changed everything.

"You're thinking too much." Came a mumbled voice from the covers. Drake started, looking down to see heavy lidded brown eyes looking up at him. Nike yawned.

"Sorry, did I wake you?" He asked. She hummed noncommittally.

"I could hear the gears in your head overheating," she teased sleepily. He smiled, turning on his own side to face her. She blinked slowly at him, the tug of sleep apparent. He hesitated for a moment before reaching for her, gathering her in his arms and drawing her close. He felt her sigh against his chest, snuggling against him.

"What happens now?" He asked. In truth, he was uncertain of their future. There were so many implications to them starting a relationship that it made his head spin. Nike, who had apparently been close to going back to sleep, grumbled something against his shoulder.

"What do you mean?" She asked. He sighed.

"I mean, what do we do now? About us?" He asked. He felt her draw back and looked down at her. She was frowning at him.

"Drake, nothing has changed," she said. He blinked in confusion, opening his mouth to say something, but she placed a finger against his lips, silencing him.

"Do you feel any differently than you did yesterday? A week ago? A month?" She asked him. He paused, thinking for a moment. He finally shook his head. She smiled at him.

"See? Nothing between us has changed. You've simply placed a name to an emotion you've had for a while." She said. He stared at her for a minute before a relieved smile spread across his face. He caught her hand as she drew it away from his mouth, kissing her palm gently.

"You really are amazing." He murmured. Nike snorted.

"And don't you forget it." She said. He chuckled, leaning forward to kiss her forehead. She snuggled back down against his chest, fingers curling in his shirt. Soon, the sound of her breathing evened out and he closed his own eyes, content to let sleep take him over.

His final thought before drifting off was that having her in his arms felt right.

X-X-X-X-X

/AN/

Short chapter, major fluff. I regret nothing.

This officially ends the Canon/Dinner arc and is the beginning of the 2 year arc, where we find out what everyone was up to during the time skip.

To Rejar: I always look forward to your reviews, so no worries there. I was almost done with that last chapter before I stopped and thought: 'where's the garter'? So, yeah, threw it in at the end, but it still turned out pretty good, so meh. I went back and re-read the chapter and I have to agree with you. You're reading and it flows smoothly and then, BAM, 'baka' just leaps out at you and smacks you in the face. So I went and changed it. I imagine that Nike says it in a fond way, so it's not insulting. Like a nickname. For Nike 'idiot' is the equivalent of 'sweetheart'.

To Shiningheart of ThunderClan: Yes, Drake wasn't aware. I imagine he's one of those men whose just obtuse enough that he realizes that he has feelings for someone, but doesn't see the extent of them until someone (like Garp) bluntly comes out and puts a name to them. And I smacked myself in the face when I noticed I'd spelled 'wine' incorrectly. I mean, come on, self. So, thanks for pointing that out.


	9. Chapter 9

X-X-X-X-X

He'd agonized over what to get her.

Nike was, by nature, a practical person. The only jewelry she ever wore was her brother's pendant, she always kept her hair braided, and the first thing she'd grabbed the morning after their dinner with Garp had been her boots.

Despite this, Drake smiled to himself as he tucked the small package into his coat pocket, confidant in his choice. It felt good to be back in his usual clothes, a sentiment that Nike mirrored in her looser stance and more open stride. Though, that might have been the absence of the 3 inch stilettos. She'd glared at them with distaste as she shoved them into her bag that morning.

He joined his sniper outside the little shop where he'd picked up his order, watching as her gaze flicked across the crowd, lingering here and there. His light touch on her elbow made her turn and, if he hadn't been looking for it, he would have missed the way her eyes softened when she saw him. He smiled at her, offering his arm. She rolled her eyes but took it nonetheless, letting him lead her through the city of West Port without complaint.

They were so close to the wharf that they could see the mast of their ship, but they were taking their time. Their crew weren't expecting them back until the afternoon and were likely to not be aboard if they arrived early. As such, they wandered through the city's park, grabbing lunch from a vendor before sitting on an unoccupied bench and sharing from the paper box of grilled meat and vegetables.

They'd started jousting with their forks for the last piece of chicken when something occurred to Drake.

"How long?" He asked. Nike didn't need to ask what he was talking about as she shoved his fork away, grabbing the piece of chicken with her free hand. He scowled at her as she munched happily on the crunchy bits.

"I don't know for sure. I guess I always liked you, but I didn't figure out how deep it was until the East Bay incident."

Drake felt his jaw go a little slack.

"That was _three years ago_!" He said, completely ignoring the fact that she was now hogging the beef strips.

"Yeah, so?" She asked. He frowned at her.

"You were so sure I was going to come around?" He felt the beginnings of anger uncurl in his chest, but her blank stare squashed the feeling as soon as it appeared.

"I never had any such illusions. I didn't know if you'd ever develop feelings for me," she said lightly, stabbing a piece of grilled pepper with her fork and shoving it into her mouth.

"So, what, you just ignored your own feelings and carried on?" He asked. She shrugged.

"Pretty much."

"Why?" She leveled a calculating stare at him, lips pursing.

"Because I don't care how you see me, so long as I can stay by your side." She said simply. Drake stared at her, feeling warmth pool in his stomach, before he sighed. Despite all his strength, he was always being defeated by this woman. As soon as he felt he'd gained a steady place to stand she'd yank the rug out from under his feet.

She was looking out over the park when he lifted his eyes to her, a contented expression on her face. He couldn't help his smile as he reached into his pocket and drew out the package he'd picked up earlier.

"Here." He tapped it against her shoulder and she turned to look at it curiously. With a slow blink she put down her fork and took it from him, turning it over before tugging on a corner of the wrapping paper, removing it carefully and setting it aside before turning her attention to the plain white box.

He watched as she lifted the lid to reveal his gift. He wasn't disappointed, either. Her face lit up when she understood what they were and why he'd gotten them for her.

The gloves were navy blue lambskin, missing the finger past the first knuckle, with his emblem embroidered on the back in gold thread. He watched her pull them on and smile broadly as she clenched and unclenched her hands. Yes, Nike had built up calluses from using her guns over the years, but even now there were times when her hands would hurt her.

"They're perfect." She said, glancing around before pulling one of her pistols. She leveled it, index finger in the trigger guard, and her grin grew impossibly wider.

He watched her, a stupid smile of his own spreading across his face, admiring the way his mark looked on her.

Oh.

Oops.

But Nike seemed unperturbed by the fact that he'd inadvertently marked her, turning to beam at him with unadulterated happiness. She leaned over and kissed his cheek in thanks and his smile widened.

Yeah, who cared, anyway?

X-X-X-X-X

/AN/

Yes, Nike can be well mannered. Then she turns around and talks with food in her mouth about the fact that she didn't care if Drake loved her or not, for _three goddamn years_. I imagine he finds it incredibly endearing as well as frustrating as hell.

She's insanely patient and obstinate like nobody's business.

To Rejar: Your comment about how long she'd known inspired me for this chapter, because it seemed like a good time for them to talk about it. Next chapter they reunite with their crew, which means this is sort of the last time they can be alone together. I don't imagine that their crewmates would badger them much about it, but both are relatively private people, so they'd prefer to not announce it so soon.


End file.
